Chapter Text
The classification of spells and enchantments as wizard-made creations has long been debated. Though spells themselves have been formulated and activated by wizards, the energy put to use is drawn from the natural forces of the universe. An important argument against spells being entirely nature-based is the fact that all spells, without exception, contain flaws, or ‘holes’. It has been widely agreed upon that humankind is incapable of creating a flawless form; thus the imperfection of spells proves their inorganic nature.
The aforementioned argument poses the question of how such flaws are detected. A study performed by Orchard Jennings of Australia (1949 - present) provided the data to develop her widely acclaimed theory, the Magical Flaw Theory, which states that the variations of magical flaws can be divided into three types: (1) the irregular vibrations of active spells used in combat, transfiguration, and charms, (2) the fractures along the foundation of static enchantments such as protective warding-
“Wards. There we go,” Harry muttered to himself, skimming through the next few paragraphs until he reached the relevant section.
...faint cracks upon static protective enchantments can be detected. Should the warding have been erected by a novice, the fractures will be relatively simple to perceive; an individual positioned within six and a half feet of the enchantment will detect a shimmering wave traveling in a vertical direction on several points upon the length of the enchantment. If the enchantments were constructed by a trained professional, one must position themselves within seven inches of the enchantment, and said individual may then detect an area that glows comparatively brighter than the remainder of the enchantment.
To one residing within the wards, he continued to read, breaking through the flawed area is fairly simple once detected, though there is no single method; techniques vary according to an individual’s particular strengths…The use of a wand is not strictly necessary…
Harry smiled slightly as he closed the book and stuffed it back onto its shelf. Breaking through enchantments, that sounded like an endeavor he could probably manage. It took mainly focused magical strength and relatively little practical knowledge, which suited him perfectly.
I just have to find a way to do it without Snape noticing…
***
Harry picked at his food distractedly, his mind racing with the possibilities of bringing his plan to fruition. He tried to school his face into nonchalance when he noticed Snape looking at him oddly.
I don’t want to look like I’m plotting something. The man can read minds…
Harry waited nervously for Snape to speak, convinced that, somehow, the man had discovered the nature of his most recent research topic. But Snape did not speak; he studied Harry for a few moments more, then abruptly returned to his meal.
Harry continued eating in silence, anxious to finish so he could return to the library. He felt Snape’s gaze burning into the top of his head yet again, and he deliberately focused his eyes on his plate.
How am I going to stay out of his sight long enough to break through the spells? He’s watching me more carefully than usual. But how can he know…? He said he wouldn’t read my mind, plus I would know it, even if he did.
Harry gave a mental shrug and set down his fork, wiping his mouth surreptitiously with his napkin.
Snape cleared his throat, and Harry’s head shot up.
“Harry,” Snape began, then paused, seeming almost hesitant for a moment before his face smoothed over with resolve.
Harry’s breath caught in his chest.
It must be something bad. Why else would he act like this? He’s kicking me out for sure. He doesn’t want me here anymore, he-
“There is a matter I wish to discuss with you that is of a rather delicate nature,” Snape said carefully.
Harry was taken aback.
What’s that supposed to mean?
“Er… okay?” Harry replied, frowning.
Snape was silent for a moment.
“I understand that it may be an uncomfortable topic for you,” Snape said in a low voice, “but it is important… no, vital, that you attempt to be honest with me.”
Harry furrowed his brow.
“I would suggest we take this conversation outside, but…” The distant rumbling of thunder was enough to lay that idea to rest.
“We could just stay here,” Harry muttered, wanting more than anything to get back to his books.
“Very well.”
Snape waved away the dishes and set steaming mugs of tea in their place within moments.
“I am going to get straight to the point, because this is not a matter to be taken lightly.”
Harry tensed, gripping his mug with both hands as if it stood to offer him some comfort, though the heat radiating from the porcelain did nothing to calm him.
“Has anyone ever touched you in any way that made you feel uncomfortable, or unsafe, in any manner?” Snape said clearly, his eyes focused upon Harry unblinkingly.
Harry felt an uncomfortable heat rise up in his face. Did Snape really think- Harry shook his head roughly, staring at his lap.
“Nothing like that ever happened. I swear.” He forced himself to meet Snape’s eyes. “My uncle only ever hit me, nothing- nothing like-”
Snape leaned forward, his forehead creased. “I am not just speaking of your uncle. A formerly homeless child such as yourself is a likely target for-”
“No.” And it was true, at least in the way Snape was implying. Those times he preferred not to think about when that man with the strange eyes had stared at him were not relevant, even if he’d only managed to escape worse than the leering was because he’d left, and landed himself in a dark alleyway only to be whisked away by Dumbledore.
But Jade. Jade. He hadn’t understood, he hadn’t understood until she was long gone and hopefully safe while he shivered under a tree with a threadbare blanket he’d pulled out of a bin and watched that man stare, and then he’d realized what it meant.
“No,” he said again, folding his arms across his chest and lifting his head.
“Are you certain?” The man’s tone was laced with urgency, and an undercurrent of something dangerous, but not to Harry. It was dangerous to someone who might have hurt him.
And that was almost enough to quell the endless fear he’d felt that still hovered over his every waking moment, even though the danger had passed and it made no sense to still be so afraid. And it did dull the sensation. Just a little.
***
Harry stood at the edge of the grounds later that day, squinting at the misty enchantments surrounding them. The rain had stopped a while ago, and the setting sun was just at a point where it beamed directly into his face, making it difficult to focus. He shifted his position slightly, shoes squelching in the wet grass, and he tilted his head until he was able to make them out without too much difficulty.
Okay… I need to spot an area that glows more brightly…
Twenty minutes passed, and Harry had not yet been able to spot a single flaw.
Of course, I had to get stuck with a bunch of professionals putting these together. They’re standing in the way of scientific experimentation…
Sure, scientific experimentation, that was exactly what he was doing.
Though I suppose I could use that as my excuse if I get caught…
Harry searched for a while longer, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to see as the sky darkened. He huffed in frustration.
This would be so much easier if I could just Floo to Surrey…
Not that it hadn’t occurred to him before. Harry was quite certain, however, that there were no fireplaces in Surrey that were connected to the Floo network, and even if there were, it definitely wasn’t worth the risk. He’d have to try again tomorrow.
Despite the early hour, Harry readied himself for bed and clutched his blankets tightly.
Why do I feel so… so…?
Vulnerable. That was what it was. He was feeling more wound up in this room than he had since the first week or so that he’d been there. It was easier during the day, when he had something to focus on. But the nighttime always came, to remind him that this could all be fleeting. That nothing in his life was truly secure. His ground was always shaky, and he had to tread carefully all the time, just in case it cracked beneath his feet and pulled him under.
He wanted his penknife. Maybe he wouldn’t use it, but just knowing that he could, if things got bad again, might be enough to help him fall asleep.
Harry pressed his lips together and opened a book at random. He read for a while, though his eyes shifted in and out of focus as he struggled to ignore the unpleasant thoughts that insisted on plaguing him.
Eventually, he could keep his eyes open no longer, and the book slipped from his slackened grip as he drifted off into a fitful sleep.
Not for long, however…
Harry let out an agonized scream and sat bolt upright in his bed, his chest heaving heavily. He dug his nails into his palms as he gradually blinked his way back into awareness, struggling to make out the dim image of his bedroom. His room. In Snape’s house.
Damn it, I screamed again.
Harry realized he was shivering uncontrollably, and he was too overwrought to do anything but let it continue.
Snape must have heard me.
Harry took a shuddering breath, feeling his eyes well up with tears.
I want him to come. I want him- What the hell? No you don’t. You don’t want him to come, you don’t want him to see you like this. You don’t want him to pity you, to see how weak you are...
But he couldn’t relax. He could almost feel Uncle Vernon’s meaty hands around his throat, Petunia’s cold, papery hands dragging him along by the ear. Her disgust, Vernon’s fury, and the utter indifference from both of them. They weren’t like Snape’s hands, which were warm and never hurt, and felt as though they would protect him from anything and would maim anyone that tried to harm him.
Harry felt a tear drop from his eye and down to his lip, where he could taste the salty wetness that was his pain and fear and fury, and then another tear fell, and then another, and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care, when all he wanted was-
“Harry?”
And Snape was there.
Harry looked up at Snape through blurred eyes to see the man’s face, wrought with concern . The sight just made him cry harder.
Snape walked over slowly to sit on Harry’s bed beside him. He then reached out and pulled Harry close, and Harry was too tired to pull away, too afraid, too cold, and he breathed deeply, hiding his face in the man’s dressing gown.
Snape rubbed Harry’s back in a soothing motion, and his other hand held Harry’s head pressed into his chest. Harry breathed in the scent of Snape, the scent of safety, and he gradually calmed. He didn’t want to leave the embrace, not yet, so he remained where he was, his eyes closed, breathing slowly.
Finally, Harry pulled away. Snape let him go, but he did not rise from the bed, and Harry was grateful. He kept his eyes trained on his lap as he pulled his blanket over it.
“That must have been a particularly distressing nightmare,” Snape said quietly.
Harry clenched his fists around his blanket.
They were both still and quiet for a moment, until Snape reached out to lay a hand on Harry’s shoulder. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to, because Harry heard him anyway. Snape was telling him that he could speak, that he could tell, that maybe it would loosen the nauseating tightness in his chest, just a little, to open his mouth and let the words pour out.
Harry took a shuddering breath. “They were s-scared of me.” He clenched his fists, feeling uneven nails dig into his palms. “Vernon, especially.” Working his jaw, Harry forced himself to continue, knowing with an unnerving clarity that it had to be said, that he needed to let the words out before they poisoned him even further. “He- it was only -only when my magic got stronger that he- he-”
Harry rolled back his shoulders, straightening his back because it wasn't he that should be hunched over in shame. “He kept hitting and hitting like he thought it’d make my magic go away, but it just made it even worse, even stronger, and he just didn’t stop. I thought he- he’d kill me- He didn’t think that I- I was a person- ”
Harry cleared his throat. “They- they hated me, n-no matter what I did,” he whispered. “They said I was a f-freak, that I s-should be dead. That I- that I deserved- ” Harry couldn’t go on, but he didn’t need to. Snape gripped his hands tightly into his own, knowing exactly what Harry needed, that he didn’t want to be held like he had before, but he just needed a reminder that Snape was there.
***
You will make an appearance in my home at precisely half-past nine this morning, or you will no longer have a potions master.
With a final wave of his wand, Severus sent his Patronus bearing the message on its way.
How could Albus have allowed this to happen? Severus fumed, pacing the floors of the upstairs hallway. The sun had barely risen, but Severus wanted to remain in close proximity to Harry, loath for him to awaken alone after all that had transpired during the night.
I’m having difficulty believing that this was all an innocent mistake on Albus’ part. What was the fool thinking?
Severus barely restrained himself from pounding a fist into the wall.
Save it for Albus.
A Patronus in the form of a phoenix appeared, then, bearing Albus’ affirmative reply. Severus had not expected any less; Albus knew him well enough to know what constituted an emergency.
***
Harry kept his head down during breakfast to avoid looking Snape in the eye. After last night, he was not quite sure where he stood with the man.
“Harry.”
He forced himself to look up.
“Professor Dumbledore will be arriving here shortly- you need not speak with him,” Snape interjected when Harry inhaled sharply. “I simply thought you would rather be forewarned.”
Harry nodded, looking down.
Why is he coming this time? I can’t deal with that man anymore.
Harry forcibly shifted his thoughts away from Dumbledore, and towards his plan involving the wards, or rather, the lack of progress on that front.
Maybe I can work on it more while they’re talking.
“Can I go?” Harry asked abruptly, setting down his fork.
Snape nodded his consent, and Harry sped to the library in search of more books that might assist him in his mission.
Oh… This was why I couldn’t find the flaws, Harry realized as he read a passage of the book he’d selected. I was looking for them at sunset, and they’re hard to see when it starts to get dark…
Deeply engrossed in his reading, he was startled to hear the door of the library open.
“Professor Dumbledore had arrived,” Snape said, standing at the doorway. “He and I will be in my study. If you require assistance of any sort, do not hesitate to knock.”
“Yes, sir,” Harry muttered, hiding his anticipation. This was it. As soon as Snape and Dumbledore got talking, he could put his plan into action.
A few moments after Snape exited the room, Harry snuck quietly to the door. Pushing it opened carefully, hearing faint murmurings growing steadily quieter as the men walked toward Snape’s study. He then heard a click.
I hope Hedwig won’t hate me for this, Harry thought as he made his way across the grounds.
Why am I worrying about Hedwig? Snape’s reaction is what I should be worried about…
Harry shoved that thought away. He needed to do this. He needed to know what had happened to the Dursleys so he could forget about them and everything that had happened. Otherwise, it would mean that Vernon had won. He may have not managed to beat the magic out of Harry, but the memory of him and all that he had done would be burned into Harry’s mind permanently if he didn’t find a way to let it go.
Harry reached the warding and scanned the enchantments carefully, positioned within what he judged to be seven inches of them.
At last, he spotted it. The faint, shimmering flaw in the spell.
***
As soon as the door of his study clicked shut, Severus waved his wand to muffle any sounds coming from the room.
“So, Severus, I take it there is something of a serious manner you wish to discuss with me?”
Dumbledore, to his credit, was not smiling or twinkling. He obviously knew a dire situation when he saw one.
If he so much as twitches a lip, I will not be responsible for my actions.
Severus took a few calming breaths, intent upon confronting Albus in as rational a manner as he could manage. “Tell me, Albus, exactly how closely were you keeping tabs on the child whilst he was in the dubious care of his aunt and uncle?”
Albus closed his eyes. “I am aware that he was not treated well there; it is not difficult to tell, the boy being the way he is.”
Albus paused, looking tired. Severus felt no compassion; he merely tapped a foot in his impatience for Albus to continue.
“I felt that it would engender resentment if I made personal appearances, so I had Arabella Figg situated in the area to keep an eye on the boy.”
Severus raised an eyebrow.
“Clearly, she did not do quite as well a job as I had hoped,” Albus said quietly, fingering a loose string on his dark green robes. “I wish I had done things differently. It was a difficult situation for all involved.”
Severus took another breath, willing himself not to explode. “Clearly, Albus, your best did not come close to being acceptable,” he bit out.
Albus closed his eyes again. “I know. The boy is one of many to have paid the price for my mistakes.”
Severus gritted his teeth. “That would be the least of it,” he all but growled.
Albus opened his eyes. “But Harry… he is such a bright, talented child, despite what he has had to face in his short life. He is… remarkable.
“So, clearly, his abilities nullify the wrongs that have been done to him?”
Albus tilted his head to the side. “Certainly not. Yet the past can hardly be undone-”
Severus had it. He leaned forward so his face was inches from Albus’.
“Are you aware,” he said in a low, dangerous tone, “that the child opted to live on the streets of London for a year rather than reside in the home of those monsters any longer?”
Albus’ eyes widened in horrified understanding, and Severus was perversely satisfied to see the color drain out of Albus’ face. “You- you are certain?” The man’s shoulders sagged, and he seemed to have aged decades in only seconds.
“No.” Severus sneered. “It is a likened pastime of mine to fabricate delightful tales of this nature- Yes, I am certain.”
Albus was silent for a long moment, a moment that felt as though it were suspended in time. He raised a faintly shaking hand to his mouth and stepped backwards so his back was leaning against the wall, looking every year of his age and then some.
“I did not know, Severus,” he croaked. “Truly, I didn’t. Had there been any indication, any at all, I would have taken the child in myself. I…” he couldn’t go on. His eyes glittered with what could only be tears, but they did not fall; it seemed that he had not given himself the right to allow it.
Severus inhaled. “I believe you,” he said slowly. “However, it is not me you need to convince.”
Albus nodded, straightening up. “I must make things right by the boy. I will speak with him-”
“No,” Severus said sharply. “It is clear to me that you have long given up your right to assume an authoritative role in Harry’s life, other than as his headmaster.”
He paused while Albus took that in, and watched as the man nodded, the motion firm, decided, yet fraught with something like loss.
“You will speak with the boy only if he is willing, and I will remain present during any interaction you might have with him.”
Albus inclined his head. “Of course.”
“I want full guardianship of the boy.”
Severus was at first shocked to hear those words come from his mouth, but after a moment, he fully agreed with the statement. He had been seeing Harry as his own for a while; legal papers would only solidify the relationship and allow him to be there for Harry on a more consistent basis.
Albus looked at him for a long moment.
“It shall be done.”
“Only upon his agreement, of course, “Severus said firmly. “I-”
Severus stopped. He could hear a faint ringing in his ears, and a low, deep rumbling from somewhere beneath his feet.
“The boy has left the property.”